


Lurking

by warlockdetective



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Abduction, Based on a Dream, POV Second Person, VFD is (what's the word) Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warlockdetective/pseuds/warlockdetective
Summary: Something sinister lurks in the tunnels.If you're smart, you won't enter the tunnels at night. If you're wise, you won't even acknowledge the things.





	Lurking

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I really can't help but wonder how much is known about VFD throughout the city.  
Also, this is largely inspired by a nightmare I had a while ago that I can't stop thinking about.  
Honest feedback is appreciated.

The tunnels in the city have been there as long as you can remember living there. There are some who tell you that the tunnels were built shortly before your birth, yet there are some who say the tunnels were there long before the city was ever built. Many, however, don't pay them much mind. "Every city has tunnels," they tend to say, "I mean they're commonly sewer systems, but a few of them are old subway tunnels."

The warnings regarding the tunnels, despite those people, have been told almost constantly. Frankly, it's hard to meet someone in the city who hasn't heard at least one of the warnings.

"Something sinister lurks in the tunnels."

"If you're smart, you won't enter the tunnels at night."

"If you're _wise_, you won't even acknowledge the things."

The hatches for the tunnels litter the roads, though you've heard rumors that they can be found in certain buildings the city houses if you look carefully. Quite frankly, you find yourself content never _looking_ at one if you can get away with it. However, it can be a little hard to ignore how many you seem to find on your street alone.

You're standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross, fussing with the lace cuffs of your gloves. The gloves are actually your mother's, and they're just large enough to slip off your hands if you aren't careful. You didn't think to ask if you could borrow them, but your walk is intended to be a short one and the weather is cold enough to warrant them. The day is a blustery one, and a particularly gusty breeze blows one of the gloves off your hand.

At that moment, you're given the signal to cross: talk about coincidental timing. The glove rolls across the pavement, the breeze carrying it away from you faster than you can go after it, and you stop dead in your tracks when you see it roll into an _open_ hatch. Your hesitation grows when you see no one around you to stop or encourage you from going after the thing, and after a moment you consider it best to turn around and go home. But then you think of your mother. You think of the disappointment you'll see in her eyes when you tell her that you lost one of her gloves, and it's enough to make you turn back to the tunnel's hatch.

The fact that the hatch is open is enough to draw suspicion right off the bat: you can't think of a soul who goes into these tunnels, especially considering how often the warning of "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT" gets plastered near some of them. You notice a ladder leading down to the tunnel itself, which makes you reconsider your original plan of just jumping down; your mother always told you you'd break your ankles if you jumped down from somewhere too high. The thought of your mother is what brings you to finally start climbing down the ladder--15, maybe 20 feet long?--but you don't dare close the hatch: you'll find it at the bottom, climb back up, and _leave_.

The tunnels seem to light themselves as soon as your feet drop down onto the ground--or maybe it was already bright down here?--which is enough to jolt you for a moment before you remember just why you're here. An odd sort of dread fills you when you see that the glove is nowhere in immediate sight, and the dread only seems to grow when you keep walking. The tunnels are littered with signs pointing in directions you can't quite decipher with names you could've sworn you heard once before. It isn't until you find yourself at a third four-way intersection of sorts that it hits you that you haven't been paying full attention to where you're going; the system of tunnels seem like an intricate spider's web.

"Are you lost?"

_Who--?_

"No," you force yourself to speak. You aren't sure if the chill you feel out of a sudden is a slight breeze or fear. "I know my way around--"

"I can show you the way back, if you'd like," they cut you off, and there's something about their tone of voice that doesn't sit right with you. They sound calm--_too_ calm--despite the circumstances. There's a grin on their face, and you can't quite tell if it's supposed to come off as one of reassurance or one of malice.

"No no, I'm alright," you wave your hand, hoping it isn't obvious that you're shaking a little. "I'm--"

"Looking for something?" they cut you off again, and you're about to ask why they keep doing that when you notice what they're holding: a glove, but it looks too dirty to really be your mother's other glove at first glance. The only thing that tells you for certain it is hers is the cuff: light blue lace, yet it's far more tattered than it had been when you were wearing it. Their grin seems to grow, and terror grips you hard before you can even try to rationalize the situation.

"Yeah, I was," you start, your discomfort heavy in your voice. You're about to ask, "How did you find it?" but something that you hope is a better question comes to you. "Did you see anything else?" They raise a brow at you, their grin faltering somewhat before you continue, "Something fell out of my pockets."

"What did you lose?" they ask after a beat of silence.

Shit. You didn't think that far. "That's the thing, I don't know," you begin, their expression unchanging. "I felt something slip out of them, but I didn't get the chance to get a look at what it was. I'm sure I'll find it if I retrace my steps, but can you see if it managed to go somewhere that way?"

You point behind them, but they don't avert their gaze from you as they ask, "Do you remember your steps?"

"Of course," you say, more confidently than you feel. They finally turn away from you as you continue, "I took a left as soon as I got down here--"

"No you didn't," they say, and you are left frozen when they turn back to you for a moment, grinning wildly as they say, "I saw you take a right." And with that, they begin walking towards where you pointed.

_Run,_ something in the back of your mind urges you, but you can't bring yourself to move; they may not be facing you, but they can undoubtedly still hear you from this distance, and these tunnels _echo._ Not only that, if they saw you enter the tunnel, who says they won't see you _now_? Your breathing is uneasy enough, but it only gets worse when you realize that they still have your mother's glove.

_She'll understand. When you tell her where you were, she'll understand. Now **run**._

You take a step back, as quietly and slowly as you can muster. Then another. Then another.

You keep walking backwards, and you don't dare turn around until you can't make out the figure at the end of the tunnel. You don't turn until the figure is one with the shadows.

_Run!_

You're walking faster now. You don't trust yourself to go any quicker until you know you're several tunnels away from them. Passing an intersection of tunnels convinces you to break into a jog.

Not long after, however you hear a pace slower than yours, yet also not too far from you.

_**RUN!!!**_

You break into a full on sprint now. You don't know how they managed to get so close to you, but you don't want to stop and think. There's _no way_ you're letting whoever this is catch up to you.

You take several paths you don't recall passing when you first entered the system, hoping it throws them off-track. The other glove slips off in your haste, but you _don't care._ Your mother won't care if you tell her how you lost them. Your mother will forgive you, so long as you actually get home.

"What kind of thought is _that_?" you think, tears streaming down your cheeks as you run, "You're getting home!! _You're getting home!!_"

Despite what feels like hours of running, you find the hatch you must've entered the system in, for it's still open. A laugh escapes you when you grab onto the ladder and begin your climb. Your body aches with each rung, but it's worth it for the escape. You're about to push the hatch further open when something makes you scream.

"Found it," the figure says, their grin wide and horrifying. One hand is holding both of your mother's gloves, and the other is firmly grasping your ankle. Before you can try to fight back, they harshly pull you off the ladder, the hatch coming to a complete close as you fall to the ground with a sickening **thud**.


End file.
